


La Réforme

by Desperate_Dr_Clone



Series: French AUs [1]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, But not that much, Fluff, French Lycée AU, Light Angst, Mary and Hélène are the same age, Multi, One Shot Collection, anatole should be an upperclassman too but he messed up, bc that's just how it be, everyone is complaining about the new baccalaureate, hippolyte is there too, mary and hélène are friends now, marya pierre andrei and dolokhov are upperclassmen, mild self insert, natasha and sonya are the youngest, old bolkonsky is a maths teacher and he's Scary, rated t to be on the safe side, this is my coping mechanism okay?, this is set in 2019, this is very fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-13 12:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desperate_Dr_Clone/pseuds/Desperate_Dr_Clone
Summary: The Education Nationale have no idea what they're doing; Hélène and Marya navigate the educational reform with their friends.In which the War and Peace characters are teenagers living through the réforme du bac currently happening in France





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> hey everybody, this chapter is essentially an introduction to the French educational system and some background information on what all the characters are getting up to. Enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit, 03/11/2019: Hi! Since its original draft phase, I have edited the book to make it easier to understand for non-French people, and because of that, a lot of this preface now reads as obsolete. I would have liked to get into more details about the French educational system, but it had a negative impact on the quality of the text, and the local colour did not translate fluidly. And, once again, the details in the text would have made little to no sense to anyone who isn't initiated to the system. Thank you for understanding, @ any French people reading this right now, hi! Feel free to hit up my tumblr (@tolstoys-nemesis) so we can have discourse about French Lycée AUs, and to all the French kids currently in 1ère, be strong, we'll all get through this! 
> 
> Anyway, new readers, enjoy this collection of one-shots, old readers, welcome back, I hope your re-reading will be very pleasant!

1\. Some Trivial Facts That Are Important To Understand The Story

So in France it's quite common for students to be put one year ahead while still in primary school if they're doing well in class (it also happens in secondary school but it's very rare). Likewise, you'll often have French people who had to repeat a year over because they were under-performing (conversely, this mostly happens in secondary school)

There's this thing in French education called the OIB, which is a special syllabus that increases the number of hours taught in a given foreign language from 3 to ~10. OIB courses can only be taken upon selective examination, and they make for a much heavier workload than that of the average student. Upon reception of the _baccalauréat_, OIB students can be admitted to universities in countries where their OIB language is spoken is spoken without having to complete typically applicable foreign language requirements. The "elite"nature of the OIB makes it very attractive for admissions office within French higher education, and a lot of students who wish to pursue highly selective study paths go through OIB courses for that reason. For obvious reasons, the most commonly available OIB is English.

The French lycée, which we will refer to as high school for the sake of everyone's understanding, is a three year school cycle, it is equivalent to grades 10 through 12 in the American educational system, or years 11 through 13 in the British system. The first year of lycée is typically the same for everybody, and in the second and third year students have more freedom with the subjects they want to take.

2\. The new Baccalauréat (2021 and on)

_La Réforme du Bac_ is essentially the French department of education giving the Lycée system a huge makeover. 

All students expected to graduate before July 2020 are following the syllabus of the former high school. The standard scenario for the ancien lycée was that a pupil would get to the end of their year of 2de and choose one of three tracks: the _Economique et Social _(ES) track, which focused on subjects like Economy, Social Studies, History, Geography, and Political Science. Then there was the _Littéraire _(L) track, which focused on Humanities so mainly Philosophy, Literature, and Languages, and the _Scientifique_ (S)track, which focused on Sciences and Mathematics.

There was a very strong hierarchy between the various tracks and this is _officially_ the reason why the reform was organised. The real reason is that the state is broke and in the long term, they're better off spending a bunch of cash on a reform now than they are spending over 50 million euros each year on one exam until the next coup.

If you're interested in the hierarchy between the tracks, it goes:

Scientific Track > Economic and Social Track > Literary Track

So anyway as of 2019-2020, the kids in their last year are in one of those three tracks. The kids in their 2nd year of high school are currently the only promotion being taught the new programmes, and they're all fearing for their lives because the Education Nationale rushed into this and a lot of the kinks haven't been worked out. The kids in their first year are holding their breath until the end of the school year, because until then, no one really knows what to expect.

If I were to describe the way the new high school is organised, I'd say that it's the old French lycée dressing up as British Sixth Form.

Basically, students are made to choose three subjects to specialise in at the end of their first year of high school. There are 12 types of subjects in total, but some of them are extremely rare and kind of ludicrous, so here are the ones that might be relevant to The Plot:

1\. Arts (students choose one out of Circus Arts, Plastic Arts, A/V, Dance, Art History, Music, or Drama)

2\. History-Geography-Geopolitics-Political Science

3\. Literature & Philosophy

4\. Foreign Language and Literature (students choose one out of German, English, Spanish, and Italian)

5\. Classics

6\. Economy and Sociology

7\. Mathematics

8\. Physics & Chemistry

9\. Earth and Life Sciences

3\. The characters

Natasha is in her first year of high school. She wants to take Music, English: Foreign Language and Literature, and Literature & Philosophy

Sonya is also in first year. She's considering taking History, Economy & Sociology, and English: Foreign Language and Literature.

Marya is in her last year. She's in S, she's in the OIB, and she's a boarder.

Anatole is in his second year, because he had to do his first year twice. He's taking Literature & Philosophy, and Economy & Sociology, mainly because Hélène is taking the same subjects.

Hélène is in his second year, she's in the OIB, and she's taking Literature & Philosophy, History, and Economy & Sociology.

Dolokhov is in his last year, he's in L and he can't handle school anymore.

Mary is in her second year, she's studying Maths, Physics & Chemistry, and Classics. She's in the OIB.

Andrei is in his last year, he's in S and he is also in the OIB.

Pierre is in his last year, he's in L and he's in the OIB. He boards.

Hippolyte is in his last year. He's in S and he's struggling.

Boris is in his second year. He's studying History, English: Foreign Language and Literature, and Literature & Philosophy.

Amélie Bourienne is a first year nursing student at uni who broke Mary's heart.

Julie is Mary's ex-girlfriend who broke up with her before the summer holidays because she had to move to Germany with her parents.

Ilya Rostov is an Italian professor. Natasha's mum is a psychologist.

Vasily Kuragin is CEO of an IT company. Aline is a housewife.

Nikolai Bolkonsky has a PhD in Mathematics, but he decided to teach at a secondary school level instead. His wife died when Andrei and Mary were kids.

Kirill Bezukhov is an accountant. He had Pierre with a dance teacher he had a brief relationship with.


	2. FAIT CHIER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1st September, 2019
> 
> Pierre, Andrei, Mary and Hélène discuss the reform on the last day of summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy first actual chapter!! These are going to be a bunch of connected one-shots taking place in the same universe, but they're not going to be a fully fleshed out narrative.
> 
> Enjoy! :))

“Wait, so what's the deal with the reform?”

“It's horse shit,” Andrei answered his friend Pierre.

“Wh– Why would you say that?”

Andrei downed all the water in his glass. “Look, I only know what my sister told me. But from what she _has _told me sounds like a bunch of cr–

“Hey guys! What are you talking about?” Speak of the devil, thought Pierre. Mary Bolkonsky gave her brother a kiss on the cheek and waved at Pierre. He waved back awkwardly, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Pierre was asking me about the new _lycée_, I told him it's bullshit.”

“Don't say that! It's really not that bad! I mean sure there are quite a few things which don't really make sense yet, and it's going to take a few years for the government to work out all the kinks, but once that's done I'm sure it's going to be great! And in the meanwhile I'm sure they're going to be nice with exam papers.”

“Sure honey,” Andrei told Mary, before turning to Pierre to whom he mouthed the words “it's a load of crap.”

“Andrei, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.” Pierre said apologetically.

Mary looked at her brother and his friend, her brow furrowed. “I didn't hear anything. . .”

Andrei sighed. “It's nothing. Forget it–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Mary squealed at a chime from her phone.

“Mary are you okay?” Pierre asked, a look of panic in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, sorry! Hélène's picking me up in five minutes, that's all!”

“Wait, you're dating Hippolyte Kuragin's sister?!”

“Jesus Andrei, it's not like that! We're friends.”

“Good, she's way out of your league, and I would have hated to punch a girl for cheating on my sister.”

“Gee. . . Thank you Andrei. . .” Mary replied, earnestly quite hurt. Andrei rolled his eyes at his sister's change in moods, and Pierre felt the need to comfort her.

“Mary, Andrei didn't mean it like that. He was just teasing. It's what brothers do!”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “And you'd know what you're talking about as an only child!”

Neither Pierre nor Andrei replied, for the doorbell rang before they got the chance to so much as open their mouths. Mary rushed to open it, back to the same state of happiness that was blessing her features a few minutes earlier, as if it had never gone away.

Pierre didn't hear what Mary and Hélène were saying, what he did hear and see, though, was Hélène walking into the Bolkonskys' kitchen and greeting them in English with a cheerful “_Hi boys_”. In all the time Pierre had known Hélène, she'd always clung to this fantasy of moving to the United States after school. Sometimes it was fun to hear her enthusiastically rambling about her plans, but mostly it was exasperating to hear her butcher the language and insert random English phrases in her speech. He gave no response save for a quick wave; Andrei made a snazzy remark along the lines of “hello, Hélène, still learning English, I see”, which she did not acknowledge.

“Anyway, what were the lot of you chatting about before _que je_ _got here_?”

“The latest reform introduced by our good friend, the Department of Education. Do you have any valuable insight on that?”

“I don't know about valuable, but what I do have to say is _PUTAIN CA FAIT CHIER_.”

“Jesus fuck, okay!”

“Andrei, you know how dad feels about swearing!” Mary's voice called from the hall.

“Dad's not here, dumbass!”

“Then you know how_ I _feel about swearing!”

“Hélène cursed too!”

“Hélène doesn't live here, she gets a free pass.”

“Sorry, _Mum_.” He rolled his eyes, Hélène clicked her tongue, victorious.

Mary came back into the kitchen. “Okay, I'm good to go.”

Hélène wiggled her eyebrows and did finger-guns at Mary. “Awesome! Let's go. Pierre, Andrei, I am dreadfully sorry, but we must leave you. Enjoy your last day of summer.” With that, she grabbed Mary by the hand and dragged her out of the house.

Soon as they'd left, Andrei sighed and said. “God, she's ugly.”

Pierre stared at his closest friend, unsure what to say. “Don't. . . say that. . . It's normal not to find your sister attractive, but Mary–”

“No, not Mary! Hélène!”

“Wait, really?”

He nodded. “She looks exactly like her brother.”

“Uh no homo but Anatole is super hot.”

“Not Anatole, Hippolyte!”

“Wh– you think? I don't see it at all.”

“They have the same hair, same protuberant eyes, same button nose, same weird chubby cheeks, same disturbingly skinny neck. How did you never notice that?”

“I don't think so. . . She just looks so much better than he does.”

“She _doesn't_. I don't know what you and all those other boys see in her; she's just so plain and fake and she's so dramatic.”

“Now come _on_, attacking a woman on her looks because you don't have any solid arguments against her as a person? That's low, even for you! I get that she used to bully Mary when they were younger, but she's apologised and she's a much better person now, you know. Besides, Mary's forgiven her! Water under the bridge!”

“Mary is literally the only person I know who has a weaker backbone than you do. I'll stay mad as long as I want.”

“Whatever. I just don't think Hélène's the only person who's been able to make Mary happy since Julie left.”

“Okay.”

The two of them sat in awkward silence looking at their phones for a while, until Andrei's dad got home and forced them to start a game of Scrabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos and a comment, they make my heart happy :3  
follow me on tumblr for complete and utter war and peace geekery @tolstoys-nemesis


	3. Ask her out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène, Mary, Anatole and Dolokhov are in the cafeteria. Marya has something to ask Mary. Hélène has something to ask Marya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone.  
I do want to issue a minor content warning for this chapter. Bullying is mentioned, nothing graphic, but it is relevant to the chapter so be aware of that.  
I would also like to add that the friendship depicted between Hélène and Mary is entirely the exception and not the rule when it comes to former bully/bullied relationships. If any of you are going through a situation where you are bullied, I encourage you to seek help from a trustworthy adult, and if that is your case or was your case, please do not think of this fic as a reason why you should forgive let alone befriend your (former) bully. Hélène in this universe has made the conscious choice of bettering herself and took the first step of asking for forgiveness upon reconnecting. The point I was trying to push for was the fact that it is possible for a person to improve their behaviour through hard work, regardless of where they started. However, bc I am depicting such a close relationship between Hélène and Marya, the point I initially wanted to get over might be confused with a message of allowing toxic people back into one's life as if nothing had happened because they apologised. No abuser is entitled to your forgiveness or your permission to come back into your life.
> 
> End of note. Enjoy your read :)

“So basically a zeugma is when you have one word linking two clauses of a sentence but that word changes meaning from one clause to another. And it's different from a syllepsis because a syllepsis only works if the word means the same thing in both clauses!”

“You know Hélène,” Anatole said, visibly annoyed, “if we wanted to hear a lecture about words at lunch, we'd ask Pierre.”

Hélène stuck her tongue out at him. Mary chuckled ever so quietly and Dolokhov's face fell at the mention of 'words'.

“Why would anyone ever want a lecture on words?” He began, his brow furrowing. “Words are horrible. I hate words so much. _God_, I can't wait to get out of here.” He buried his face in his hands and grunted.

Hélène patted his back, feeling genuinely sorry for him: the poor man was not made to sit in a chair for eight hours a day. “It's okay, Fedya. Remember you only ten months to go and then you're done!” She was of little comfort and Dolokhov's incomprehensible grumbling intensified, if she knew him at all, Hélène could be next to certain his philosophy class was the object of his complaining. Mary intervened, with a tact that out of the four of them, only she possessed.

“Let's change the subject! Anatole, is there anything you'd like to talk about?”

“Yes!” Anatole exclaimed. “For example, hm. . .” He paused and contorted his face as in deep thought. “Hélène!” Oh no. Hélène knew that tone, and from experience, she could tell that whatever was going to follow would be embarrassing for her. “Have you asked Marya D. out yet?”

Mary and Dolokhov stared at her with wide eyes and began to ask a thousand questions at such a high speed that Hélène could barely make out most of them, but the general gist seemed to be “You have a crush on Marya?” and “Why didn't you ever tell me?” and “Do you even know anything about her?”. Well at least that had brought Dolokhov out of his sad state. Well gee! Thanks, Anatole. Hélène gave her brother a death stare.

“For the last time, _Anatole_, I do not have a crush on Marya. You're making up scenarios in your head from perfectly normal comments I make.”

“You do! Oh my god you _so_ do! You're always telling me about how. . .” he took a monotonous tone. “_Marya wasn't wearing her red trousers today, she had jeans on. That was weird, she always has those trousers on_ or _Marya gave a great speech at Model UN training today_.”

Dolokhov snorted at Anatole's impression of Hélène's voice. Mary at least had the decency to chew on her lip to hide her amusement.

“I don't speak like that,” Hélène muttered through gritted teeth, tucking a few curls that had got loose from her ponytail behind her ear. “Besides, last time I checked, it wasn't a crime to admire the smartest kid in school – no offence Mary.”

“None taken!” Mary replied with a distant smile.

Anatole nodded, obviously not buying it. “Come on Hélène, you've been single since you broke up with that Boris guy, and that was, what, a year ago?”

She sighed. “Yeah, something like that. I broke up with him before Christmas break last year.”

Dolokhov sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Ouch, and I thought _our_ break-up was rough.”

Anatole ignored Dolokhov's interruption. “And you haven't been in a relationship since then.”

“Yeah, being single is great, mind you. You can just have casual sex with a stranger and never see them again.”

Anatole raised his eyebrows. “Dude, you're my sister, I know you, and you've always needed the butterflies in the stomach and the spontaneity and the passion or some shit. You can't do casual.”

“Yeah well look at my dating history! The butterflies in the stomach don't really end well. But anyway, I don't have a crush on Marya, so back o–.”

“Oh hi Marya!” said Marya, looking over Hélène's shoulder.

Hélène rolled her eyes. “Seriously Mary?”

Mary opened her mouth slightly, apologetic, when a voice Hélène immediately recognised rang into her ears. She turned her head to see a tall redhead standing right behind her seat. Great! Hélène cursed herself internally behind her smile.

“Hi,” said Marya. “Can I ask you something, Mary?”

Hélène saw her friend was looking like a doe caught in the headlights. “Uh sure! What about?”

“I'm running for a second student council mandate, but my running mate needs to be an underclassman so they can be there for the whole two years. I know you want to get into Polytechnique, and these big schools, they like seeing stuff like that on applications.”

Hélène remarked that Mary was looking very conflicted, she had a good reason, too. The poor girl was terrified of expressing her opinions, let alone do it in front of adults. Hélène felt a twinge of guilt at the thought. She hadn't exactly been kind to Mary when they were kids, and she couldn't help wondering just how much her behaviour had contributed to making the girl she now considered her best friend into the mousey young woman she was.

Mary stumbled over her words. “Uh. . . It's just. . . I-I don't think I'd be a good fit for the job. I mean I don't want to make things harder for you so uh. . . If you really want me to do it I mean I'm not entirely opposed to it but I just don't want to be a nuisance and I'd rather not have to do it, but if you don't want to ask someone else I mean maybe, okay.”

“I'd really appreciate it if you did it with me, I'd be doing all the talking until the end of the year and worst case scenario you can quit next year.”

“Oh well. . . If you put it like that, I mean okay sure. . .”

“Great!” Marya said, clasping her hands together. Do you have a free period today so we can get together and think of a programme?”

“I don't think I do. . . But uh, I have your phone number, I think, so I can make a Google document and we can phone while typing it out?”

“That's fine with me. Ring me at six, okay?”

Mary nodded, and Marya turned around to leave. Had it been anyone else sitting on the opposite side of the table, Hélène would have given them a speech about standing up for themselves, but this was one of the unspoken agreements between Mary and Hélène: Mary didn't remind Hélène of the things she'd done to her when they were kids, and Hélène didn't use harsh words with her. Meanwhile, next to Mary, Anatole was mouthing the words “ask her out now, you coward” at Hélène.

The only response she gratified him with was a death stare. Oh and what the hell! She had nothing to lose. Hélène drew a deep breath and stood up.

“Marya!”

The redhead turned around. “Yes?”

Hélène fiddled with a strand of her hair. “Are you doing anything Saturday after school?”

“Why are you asking?” Hélène was naturally quite tall, and she was always in heels, which tended to give her a height advantage on most women. Even then, Marya was noticeably taller than her.

Hélène's smile got softer. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out.”

Marya quirked an eyebrow. “With you?”

A nervous chuckle escaped Hélène's mouth. “I'm not exactly the type of person who'd agree to ask someone out for their friend!”

Marya crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this some kind of joke? A bet?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I could say it was.”

“Why?” Marya's tone was snappy. “We don't talk.”

Hélène smiled in a corner. “Not true! Last week, in Model UN training, I made a pun about Russia and the arms race, and you said. . . _shut up, some of us are actually trying to pay attention_. That counts as talking.” Marya looked down and snorted.

“You know what I meant.”

Hélène smiled a cocky grin. “I don't think I do.”

Marya rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you're extremely annoying.”

Hélène nodded with exaggerated solemnity and clicked her tongue. “All the time. So?”

“So?”

“What do you say?” Hélène was suddenly extremely aware of her heartbeat, she braced herself for the rejection she was sure was coming.

“Wait for me in the hall. Saturday. Noon. Surprise me.” And with that, Marya winked at Hélène and turned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments make my heart go 'woosh' :3
> 
> Also, if I have to write, hear, or look at the words "Model UN" one more time this week I will cry.


	4. Lunch on a Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène and Marya have lunch plans with an iconic duo of cousins

“Hélène, not that I don't like what you're doing right now, but we are at school and this is definitely not school-appropriate behaviour.”

Marya was right, Hélène knew; sitting on her girlfriend's lap and leaving love bites along her neck was not, in fact, school-appropriate behaviour. Still, she only smiled against the redhead's skin. "That means nothing to me," she hummed.

Marya sighed. “It does to me.”

Hélène pulled away, a pout settling on her face and Marya gave her lips a chaste kiss. “Please? For me?”

The smile that usually graced Hélène's features instantly returned, and she in turn gave Marya her kiss back. “For you, anything.” She winked as she stretched lazily and climbed off Marya's lap, sitting at her side. Hélène took her hand into her own, brought it to her mouth and planted a kiss at the juncture between Marya's thumb and forefinger, stroking it with her thumb.

“So. . .” She began, in her usual monotonous voice. “These girls you want to introduce me to! How do you know them?” The question could easily have passed for a mundane one that would normally be asked in a situation where one was about to meet their partner's friends. However, Hélène had been dating Marya for a little over a month and she still knew precious nothing about her, and she was scrambling for every bit of information she could find about her girlfriend.

“They're family friends.”

How precise! “Did all of your parents meet at university?” She prompted.

“No.”

“How did they meet then?”

“That's none of your business.”

Hélène gently tapped Marya's hand with her thumb and gazed straight at her. “Please?” Hélène had an almost suppliant look in her eyes. “_Mon ange_, you're a private person and I respect that, but we've been going out for a month and I feel like you don't trust me with anything about your life outside of school.”

Marya turned away from Hélène's eyes. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds before she responded, but to Hélène, these few instants felt like an eternity. “I understand why you may feel that way,” Marya finally said. “I know I'm not great when it comes to expressing my feelings, and for personal reasons, that I don't want to disclose, I don't like telling anyone more than the bare minimum there is to know about me. But I do trust you, and I care about you.” Marya looked away again, seeming to struggle for words, uncharacteristic for her, who was always so eloquent. “So I don't want you to feel like that's not the case, and I promise to try and work on that for you. Just. . . Try not to push me out of my comfort zone too much. . . Please?”

The corners of Hélène's mouth curled up softly and she gave Marya's hand a kiss. “Thank you.”_ I love you_, she added in her mind. _I know it's too early and we're going to break up anyway when you graduate in July but I love you. God I love you so much. _Warmth pooled in Hélène's gut, and she couldn't help the large grin of sheer happiness on her face. 

Marya returned Hélène's smile and started her story. “Natasha's father, Ilya, and Sonya's mother went to school with my parents. They stayed close through university. Then Ilya got married to Natasha's mother, Natalya. Sonya's mother started seeing Alexander, Ilya's brother, but that was already a while later because Natasha's parents already had two kids when she was born, and Sonya's parents only had her a couple of months before that. Anyway, uh, for a number of reasons, Sonya has lived with Natasha's parents since she was a kid. My parents and Sonya's lost touch, but they're still very close with Natasha's.”

Hélène didn't push for the reasons behind this living arrangement, as much as she would have liked to; Marya even telling her about this was already a considerable effort on her behalf.

A light voice in the distance startled Hélène with a "Hi, Marya!"

Looking up, Hélène saw two girls walking towards the bench she and Marya were sitting on, and she realised that she had seen them in the halls before, always the pair of them together, although she had never really taken notice of them. The first one, who had called after Marya, was petite. She had thick, black hair, with an unusual face. Not ugly, far from that, but striking, heart-shaped, with defined features; a small nose, mono-lidded eyes, and a plump upper lip. The other girl was walking at a much slower pace than her friend, who was all but running. She was slightly taller than the other, and even from a distance, there was a family resemblance between the two, something in the face that Hélène couldn't really pin down.

Hélène watched the shorter girl hastily press a kiss to each of Marya's cheeks before turning to look at her. “You're Hélène, right?” She asked with a huge grin.

"The one and only," she answered. The girl gave her two kisses, like she had done with Marya. “It's a pleasure to meet you!" She said "I'm Natasha. . . And _this_ is my cousin Sonya!" The other girl, Sonya, had reached the bench in the time it had taken Natasha to greet Marya and Hélène, and she gave a quick wave, followed by a "Hi!" and a shy smile that vaguely reminded Hélène of Mary.

"Hi," she replied. "I'm Hélène."

Sonya nodded. "I know. We've heard a lot about you!"

Hélène turned and looked at Marya with a smirk. "_Really_? Because I haven't heard anything about these two charming girls!"

Natasha intervened. "That's not exactly true actually. We heard more about you than we usually hear about one topic from Marya, which. . . is still not a lot by normal people standards."

Hélène's smirk turned to an outright shit eating-grin. "Well that's a relief! For a second you had me worried that Marya was becoming a talkative person."

Marya sighed in exasperation. "You do realise that I can hear literally everything you're saying, right?"

Natasha gasped dramatically. "What? I had _ no _idea!" Hélène snorted at that; she liked Natasha already. "Anyway," Natasha continued, "are you two lovebirds ready to go?"

Hélène and Marya replied by the affirmative, and they all left the school to grab some lunch.

Hélène's first impression of Natasha had been correct: she was a lovely, lively young woman with a great sense of humour, and it was hard to picture anyone disliking her. Over lunch, Hélène learned that Natasha wore her heart on her sleeve, and was a genuinely popular girl. Over that same lunch, she learned that Sonya was gay and out, but had never been kissed.

Hélène felt that Sonya wasn't used to being the centre of attention nor did she especially care to be. And she was more on the reserved side, but Hélène discovered that although Sonya did not say much, when she did, what she had to say was usually either a kind word or a witty remark. Quite frankly, the more time passed, the more Hélène felt like she and Mary would make quite the pair.

After lunch, the four of them went their separate ways: Marya had to get back to the school's boarding facilities, Sonya and Natasha wanted to stay in town for a while longer, and Hélène began her walk home. She didn't live that far from school, and the walk back was still pleasant in mid-October. As she passed a park, Hélène took out her phone to send a text. A response came almost instantly, and she smiled at it.

_Hélène: There's someone you should meet!!_

_Mary: ohh, do tell :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me comments and kudos please, I'll love you forever.


	5. I just wanted to study maths!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To that one girl in my classes: please never stop smiling, no matter what people may tell you.
> 
> warnings: body image issues, panic attack

It would appear that Mary was going through a life crisis. No, actually that was a reductive statement. Mary was constantly going through some sort of life crisis; this one was just more intense than usual. Hélène was sprawled over Mary's bed, lying on her stomach, her head propped up by her hands, feet up and beating around the air as Mary briefed her through her latest crisis.

“Oh my god, Hélène, I can't date! I mean Sonya is amazing, but there is. . . no way she feels the same way about me and even in the very vague possibility that she does, I can't be in a relationship! I don't know how to be in a relationship!”

Hélène snorted, amused by Mary's remark. “If that makes you feel any better, I don't think anyone knows how to be in a relationship!”

Mary gave her a stern look. “You know what I meant! I've never dated anyone, and I. . . I need to focus on school! I mean I'm nowhere near smart enough to get into one of the best schools in the country on sheer improvisation alone and I can't afford to lose a moment of study time.”

Hélène let out a long breath through her mouth, trying to process Mary's issues. She remembered last year, when Mary had decided to give up on her hobbies so she could focus on her studies and nothing else. It was excessive, it was the consequence of Mary's drive to succeed. Hélène tried the most obvious approach.

“Dude, you do realise that the marks you're getting now won't stop you from getting into these fancy schools, right? They don't care about that! They just want you to crush the exam, and knowing you, you're going to crush it.”

Mary's face was getting flush and her speech was beginning to slur. “Maybe they don't care directly, but I need the grades now so I can get into good preparatory classes and once I'm in those I need to get good grades in them and I can't do that if I don't have a rock solid foundation of knowledge. And to get that foundation I need to absolutely master what I'm learning now. But all that is beside the point because Sonya is obviously not attracted to me anyway because I'm ugly and she's so out of my league, and I don't want to mess up our friendship because of feelings I have for her that she's obviously never gonna return.”

Hélène stood up and walked over to Mary. Her breathing was erratic.

“Mary. . .”

Nothing.

“Mary, I need you to take a deep breath. Can you do that?”

Nothing.

Hélène put a hand on Mary's shoulder. “Align your breathing with mine, please.”

Hélène inhaled for one. . . two. . . three. . . four seconds. Held it in for one. . . two. . . three. . . four seconds. And out for one. . . two. . . three. . . four. She repeated the process several times, drawing, holding, releasing, to no avail for a while, but eventually, Mary's breathing became stable. They kept going like this, neither one of them saying a word, until Mary gathered enough strength to move and sit down on her bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I'm going to get you some water. I'll be right back.”

Hélène left the room and went into the Bolkonskys' kitchen to get a glass. A grim place, really: lit by a cold neon lamp, with walls covered in white tiling, and post-it notes on the fridge with scribbles that Hélène recognised as Mr Bolkonsky's handwriting. She opened a few cupboards before finding a glass, which she filled up with tap water. Thankfully, she and Mary were alone in the house, so there was no risk of Andrei, or worse, his father, asking a bunch of stupid questions. Hélène went back upstairs and handed Mary the glass. Mary looked up, a small smile on her lips and took a sip. In that moment, Hélène truly looked at her friend: acne scars and spots freckled her forehead, temples and cheeks, she had beautiful eyes with long lashes, but they were naturally puffy, and the dark circles didn't help. Her hair was a nondescript mousey colour, she had an aquiline nose which looked out of place on her round face; and none of these awkward features mattered in the end, because Mary was one of the most genuinely beautiful people Hélène knew, and her inherent kindness translated on her face. She decided to take matters into her own hands.

“Are you feeling better?” Hélène asked.

Mary nodded.

“Okay, come here.” Not waiting for an answer, Hélène dragged Mary up on her feet, grabbed her by the hips, and made her stand in front of her mirror. “Okay,” said Hélène. “What do you see?”

Mary shut her eyes and sighed. “I don't know! You, me, the somewhat sexual energy of you touching my hips like this. . . By the way, put your hands elsewhere, please.”

Hélène mouthed a “Oh! Sorry!” and obliged.

“You know what I see?” Mary shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I see the girl who doesn't wear make-up but has such pretty eyelashes that people keep asking her what mascara she uses. I see the girl who can brighten a stranger's day with a smile. I see the girl who got closer to getting me interested in maths than all my maths teachers combined. I see the girl who let me – her childhood bully – into her life, forgave me for all the crap I put her through, and in time allowed me to become her best friend. If anything, you're out of Sonya's league, so go and get her!”

Hélène moved to lean against the door frame, Mary looked down, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “What if she says no?”

“Then you'll know where you're standing,” Hélène answered. “and you can clean the slate and start a brand new friendship with her.”

“I don't even know if she likes girls,” Mary mumbled.

Hélène snorted. “Oh trust me. She does. Lesbian flag pins on a denim jacket? Short nails for no apparent reason? Rainbow phone case? The plaid? Doesn't even mention men one in conversation? Puh-lease, Sonya couldn't possibly be more explicitly gay.”

Mary rubbed the back of her neck and squeezed her eyes shut. “Why is getting through school so much more complicated than doing well in lessons? I just wanted to study mathematics for the love of God”

Hélène sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Okay, dude, first of all, can't relate. Second of all, just roll with it! If you like her, ask her out! Simple as that!”

Mary didn't answer, and started picking at a pimple on her cheek.

“Stop doing that!”

Mary looked up as if pulled out of a reverie. “Stop doing what?”

“Picking at your skin! It's gross!”

She shrugged. “I'm already ugly, what's one more scar?”

Hélène felt as though a knife were being twisted in her abdomen. “Don't say that!”

Mary didn't say anything. And Hélène took that as a sign that it was high time the subject of their conversation changed. “Anyway! Have you seen that video of Trump singing a Taylor Swift song?”

Mary's eyes opened wide and she laughed quietly. “Okay you have to show me that!”

Sonya was finishing some homework. Maths. It just always had to be maths. A dreadfully boring subject, taught by a man who was just dreadful, period. When her phone screen lit up, she jumped on the occasion to take a break. She opened the notification and saw it was a text from Mary. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Sonya liked Mary. She was sweet, a soothing force. She was straight though, Sonya was sure of it: Mary had never said anything about liking girls. So Sonya was fine with hiding her feelings for Mary if it meant she could be in her life. Nothing could have prepared Sonya for the conversation she was about to have.

******

_Mary: Hey! Do you want to have lunch together tomorrow?_

_Sonya: Sure! I'll ask Natasha if she wants to come with. Ask Hélène and Marya?_

_Mary: Uh, actually I was thinking maybe it could just be the two of us. . ._

_Mary: Like. . . A date. And I totally get it if you don't feel the same way and you'd rather just be friends, but uh yeah. . . This is how I feel._

Sonya smiled at her phone, hyper-aware of her own heartbeat as she typed her response.

_Sonya: I'd love that :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me kudos and comments, they really make me feel like people appreciate my work :)
> 
> for more general geekery, hit up my tumblr, @tolstoys-nemesis


	6. Oh No. . .

Natasha was awaiting her white knight's return from the war. She had been without news for weeks now, and she could only hope he was unharmed. She would see him again this week, she knew. He was so brave and selfless, she was certain he must have earned some sort of distinction for his service in the war. She–

“Earth to Natasha, are you receiving me?”

“hmm. . .”

“You were daydreaming again, weren't you?” Sonya asked with a half smile.

Natasha didn't answer, and she was still looking over her cousin's shoulder. Sonya turned around to see what Natasha was looking at, or rather _who_ she was looking at. Mary and Andrei, talking about whatever it was the two of them had to talk about. Sonya gave her girlfriend – God, she loved the sound of that word – a wave, which went unnoticed. Oh well, that happens!

“Natashaaaa. . .” She said, very quietly, in a sing-song voice. A smile was tugging at the corners of Sonya's lips, a laugh at the edge of her mouth, all too willing to get out.

“Gosh, he's so cute,” Natasha sighed, an expression of happiness on her face. “Do you know who he is? That boy Mary is talking to?”

“Yeah,” Sonya said, matter-of-factly, as she stabbed a long bean with her fork. “That's Andrei.”

Natasha's smile widened. “Oh, that's funny, he has the same name as Mary's brother!”

Sonya could barely stifle a laugh. “Natasha. . . That _is _Mary's brother.”

Natasha's face fell instantly. “No. . . No he's not! You're messing with me!” She looked more incredulous than anything, and guilty as Sonya felt for laughing at her cousin's reaction, her grin had already taken over her entire face. “I'm not messing with you. That's Andrei Bolkonsky. Mary's older brother, Mr Bolkonsky's son, Marya's rival in maths. . . You know! Andrei Bolkonsky!”

“No, no, no. No. No, I can't believe it. He doesn't even look like Mary or Bolkonsky at all.”

Sonya shrugged and pouted. “I guess he takes more after his mother. Mary does look a lot like her dad, so that must be why, I guess.”

“Shit, from what you've told me about Andrei, I thought he would be this super weird, nerdy guy who has a collection of Japanese porn in his room and thinks that not having feelings makes him the smartest person in the room, not this. . . this gorgeous sweet boy.”

Sonya gave her a skeptical look. “Natasha, you do realise that you've never even talked to the guy, right?”

“We have a connection! I can feel it.”

“By the way, I don't know what that means to you, but Andrei _is_ a super weird, nerdy guy, and from the times I've spoken with him, he does seem to think that not having feelings makes him the smartest person in the room. I don't know about the Japanese porn though.”

Natasha grumbled something incomprehensible about how cute he was, but given her tone, there was also definitely some negative stuff in there.

Sonya leant in and whispered: “Are you gonna ask him out?”

“What?!” Natasha almost jumped out of her chair. “Are you crazy! No, of course not, he's our maths teacher's kid! I don't want Bolkonsky to have a good reason to hate me!”

“Natasha, you're constantly chatting in his class, he's going to hate you anyway, and in both scenarios he'll have a decent reason to. _Actually_, he has a better reason to hate you for the stuff you're doing now, than he would have if you were dating Andrei. So you literally have nothing to lose. Besides, I'm dating his daughter, so I'm pretty sure that if he's going to hate anyone for dating his kid, it's gonna be me. All that to say, feel free to proceed, I've got you covered.”

Natasha made a face. “Whatever,” she declared. “I'm not asking him out!”

Sonya shrugged and shoved a mouthful of beans into her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> So this update was remarkably short. . . I'm sorry about that. The next one will be longer, but I just wanted to churn this one-shot out as fast as possible, if only so I would not have to edit it anymore.
> 
> Also please leave kudos or a comment, they make me genuinely happy and I love reading them and answering them :')
> 
> Anyway, hmu on tumblr (@tolstoys-nemesis) for more general geekery!!


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